Authors: Hannah Howell
“Ye wouldnae have heard me,” Alaistair growled as he strode to the bed and studied his daughter, scowling at the bruises on her face. “Put up a good fight, did ye, lass?”
“Weel, I wouldnae say being slapped around was much of a fight, Fither. Er, Fither, do ye think ye could wait but a moment for this visit? There is one or twa things I need to do ere I sit and talk.”
At that moment Storm nudged her way through Islaen’s brothers who were gathered in the doorway. She efficiently moved everyone out into the hallway except for Alaistair. Islaen nearly laughed as she watched her father nearly carry a startled Iain into the other room to see to his needs while Storm quickly helped her see to hers. Iain was still looking bemused when Alaistair brought him back and bundled him back into bed at her side.
“I will fetch ye some food to break your fast,” Storm said as she started to leave. “Do not frown so, Iain. T’will not be gruel.” She opened the door and stared at the group of large MacRoth men. “I will bring ye a lot of food,” she drawled.
“God’s toe-nails, has everyone come then?” Islaen asked weakly as her brothers filed into the room. “Nay, the big twins arenae here.”
“Nay,” Conan said as he moved forward to kiss Islaen in greeting, “and we left that lad, Gamel, behind as weel. He was carrying on some about having failed ye. William plans to take him for a wee swim an he doesnae hush soon.”
“Oh dear, poor Gamel. Weel, I had hoped ye would make him see things a wee bit less dreamily.”
“He is a good lad, dearling,” her father said as he sat down by the bed, “and beneath all that hair is some wit when ye can get him to cease talking nonsense. Now, introduce your mon to Angus and Conan, then ye can tell me all that happened.”
Even though she was certain Robert had told her father most everything, she dutifully obeyed. Storm and Meg arrived with food about halfway through the telling. Islaen ate and gave over most of the telling to Iain for she found that the memories of that horrifying time were still too fresh and disturbing to speak of calmly. By the time the tale was done, all questions answered, she was feeling weary. Her head did not ache half as much as it had but it still drained her strength. Leaning against Iain she felt his arm slip around her shoulders to hold her more comfortably against him.
“Ye did yourself proud, lass,” her father said quietly.
“She should have fled when I told her to,” Iain murmured.
“That wouldnae have been Islaen. Ye needed help. Now I can see how ye think, lad, and the lass ought to obey her mon but I can see clear why she didnae. Aye, and approve of it. Ah, the bairns,” he expained joyfully as Meg, Storm and Grizel entered to deposit the children upon the bed.
Islaen suddenly became aware of the fact that she felt no need to feed her children and looked at Storm with consternation as the woman handed her Padruig. “Storm, I dinnae think I can,” she whispered.
“They have been fed. I had suspected that your milk had dried up and was prepared. The shock of your attack and your injury,” Storm shrugged. “They have begun to need more than milk anyways and they take well to goat’s milk. Grizel has had no trouble keeping them all fed although she has had to enlist the aid of a young girl for they
all seem to become demanding at the same time. ’Tis not such a tragedy, Islaen,” she added softly.
Although she nodded, Islaen was not quite sure she agreed. She felt a keen sense of loss. The time while she had held her sons close as she nursed them had been a pleasing time. There was also a small sense of jealousy concerning Grizel which she knew was wrong but was unable to fully subdue.
“Here, lass,” Alaistair murmured as he bent forward in his seat to pat Padruig affectionately, “dinnae look so dowie.”
Seeing Storm, Grizel and Meg slip out of the door, she smiled weakly at her father. “’Tis but foolish jealousy. I feel as though I lose them.”
“Nay, ye cannae lass. E’en Liusadh will soon turn to ye more once her belly isnae her first and only concern, though the maid will e’er be dear to her. Many fine ladies dinnae feed their bairns, but if they wish their love ’tis there for them. Ye can feed them the goat’s milk and gruel so ye arenae missing out completely from their feeding time. Ye held them in your body for near nine months and the lads to your breast for six. The mark is upon them.
“Here, lass, think on fithers. They ne’er carry the child in a womb nor feed it but there are few bairns that dinnae feel some bond to the mon whose seed made them.”
“Aye, ye are right, Fither.” She kissed his cheek. “’Tis a loss I wasnae prepared for and felt it too deeply for a moment.” She glanced towards Iain who was smiling rather foolishly at his tiny giggling daughter. “Liusadh kens her fither weel already and beguiles him.”
When his granddaughter turned her wide-eyed gaze his way, Alaistair smiled with a touch of sadness. “She has your mither’s eyes. Shame she got your rogue of a husband’s dark hair but she will be a beauty for all that,” he drawled, then looked at Iain and grinned. “Aye, that is a lass that will cause ye a time and more once she becomes more woman than child.”
It was not long before Alaistair put an end to the visit. Islaen smiled sleepily as she watched her children carried out by their doting uncles. It gave her a very good feeling to know that, no matter what occurred in the future, her children would never lack for love. Yawning, she snuggled up to Iain and knew she would soon be asleep.
“I dinnae think I like the way your fither grins so when he talks on the trouble Liusadh will be in a few years,” Iain drawled.
Even though she laughed, she said, “She will give it to him too. Fither feels about each of his grandchildren as if they are his very own children. If Liusadh makes ye pace the floor, Fither will be keeping step at your side. If ye could see him with the others, ye would ken it.”
“Islaen, are ye still upset about your milk drying up?”
Due to his extended absences she was not accustomed to discussing the matter with him and felt herself blush slightly. “’Tis already passing. T’was unexpected. Aye, and I found myself prey to fears and jealousies. I feel as if Liusadh will ne’er be really mine and feared to lose the lads as weel. But, Fither is right. ’Tis but a small part of the bairn’s lives and I can find muckle another way to tend to them and love them. Fither wasnae there for me as a mither or nurse was but I couldnae love the mon more. When I kenned that I was greatly soothed.” She yawned widely.
“Get some rest, Islaen.”
“If ye dinnae want to sleep, Iain, ye neednae stay with me.”
“I am staying.”
There was a tone to his voice that both puzzled her and raised her hopes. He had sounded almost as if he made a vow. Before MacLennon had come she had thought there had been a change in Iain’s feelings but was afraid to hope. She wished she were not so sleepy for she would like to try and have a serious talk with him. It was time for them to stop hiding how they felt or thought, to stop trying to guess each other’s heart and mind, and be open with each other. However, that sort of discussion required that she have all her wits about her and they were hopelessly dulled at the moment. As sleep conquered her, she told herself firmly that if all she had accomplished was to bring him back to bed that would be enough for now.
Iain muttered and cursed as he and Alexander took a chest out to one of the waiting carts. It had been over a week since the MacRoths had arrived and they showed no signs of leaving. By the time he got any time alone with Islaen she was too tired to have any serious discussion. He was getting no closer to sorting out the troubles he had bred in his marriage.
“Do ye feel inclined to tell me why ye are in such a dark mood? Are ye regretting leaving Caraidland?”
Looking at Alexander as they hefted the chest into the back of a wagon, Iain managed to growl, “MacRoths, curse them.”
“They are a great help. Ye will be moved to Muircraig in but one journey.”
“Aye, that is true.” Iain sighed and leaned against the cart. “’Tis just that I am fore’er tripping o’er them and have no time with Islaen. When she and I reach our chambers of a night she can do naught but sleep.”
“Surely if ye can maintain an abstinence of six months, ye can last but a fortnight,” Alexander drawled, his lack of sympathy obvious.
“There is that but that wasnae what I was referring to. Ye see, Alex, I did think on all ye said about wasting time and all. The curse of it is, I decided ye were right on the day MacLennon attacked us.”
“Ah, and ye have had no chance to speak to Islaen yet.”
“None. Storm felt t’would be best done when there is time and privacy to do it verra weel, to say what I must and make her believe it.”
“Aye, she y have doubts. T’will seem almost a full turn-about.”
Iain nodded. “I willnae blame her if she does doubt.” He shook his head and grimaced. “I begin to think t’will be anither year e’er I get the chance, though.”
“I doubt that.”
“Have ye no suggestions about how I might be rid of the MacRoths yet not cause any offense?”
“I dinnae meddle.”
The scathing comment Iain meant as a response to that haughtily delivered lie was smothered by the arrival of two of Islaen’s brothers. By the time he had directed them in placing the chest they carried, Alexander had slipped away. Iain did not spot the man again until they were ready to leave Caraidland. Alexander was in the midst of the MacRoths and Iain frowned slightly, then told himself not to be so suspicious before looking around for Islaen.
Islaen hugged Storm and fought an urge to cry. She wanted to start her own home, yet hated to leave Caraidland. Although Iain stayed in her bed, he had not made love to her yet and they seemed no closer to any sort of communication. She feared the loneliness she might suffer if that distance in their marriage continued even at Muircraig.
“Come, Islaen,” Storm said, giving a trembling smile, “we will not be so far apart. ’Tis best that ye finally go to live in your own home with Iain and no longer share that of others.”
“Is it? I am nay too certain of that.” Islaen hooked her arm through Storm’s and they stepped out into the bailey.
“Is there still trouble between you?”
“Nay, no trouble, but little of anything else either. MacLennon is dead and I ken
weel that, though mayhaps nothing can fully ease Iain’s fear of childbirth, I have lessened it some, yet we move no nearer to any real bond. He shares my bed but he has yet to make love to me and we share naught else.”
Storm had to bite her tongue to keep from revealing all Iain had told her in order to take the sadness from her friend’s eyes. “Give it time, Islaen. Mayhaps he but does not know how to start. As concerns the lack of lovemaking, well, ye have been very tired of late. I do not think ye were healed enough to bear the strain, joyous though it may be, of having so many kin visiting.”
“Aye, I have been quick to fall asleep. I but hope ye are right. Muircraig will be no home an I have no marriage, have but a mon who sometimes uses my body and treats me weel but no more.”
“T’will not be so dismal. I feel that in my heart. Now, come, Iain searches for you. ’Tis time to leave.”
Sitting in a cart with the children, Meg and Grizel, Islaen watched Iain ride with the men, occasionally moving along the line of carts to see that all went smoothly. Her heart ached for he seemed as out of reach as ever. She was not sure she had the strength or patience to continue to fight for some place in his affections. Her love for him was as strong as ever but a strange lack of initiative had overcome her lately. After so many long months she was weary of the battle.
Once at Muircraig, she busied herself directing the placement of all they had brought. Several times she saw Alexander in deep conversation with her kin but her suspicion that he might be up to something was fleeting, for she was far too busy to worry about it. If Alexander was meddling again she was sure she would find out later.
“Things still arenae right,” Alaistair muttered as he stood by Alexander and watched his daughter and her husband.
“They will be soon.”
Smiling crookedly, Alaistair eyed the young man with a little sternness. “Ye ken too much of what is between those two.”
“They are both my friends and I act out of caring for them, wishing their happiness, which I strongly feel can only be found within the marriage they were both pushed into.”
“They have had months to find it, yet it still eludes them.”
“Aye, it has. It was changing ere MacLennon died. Unfortunately MacLennon struck ere Iain could speak to Islaen of this change of heart.”
“The attack came o’er a week ago. Has the lad lost his urge to speak?”
“Nay. Iain must have time,” he looked at Alaistair and smiled crookedly, “and privacy to say his piece and then prove his words.”
“Then privacy he shall have for I am fair sick of watching the wee lass trying to act as if naught is amiss.” He immediately sought out his sons to tell them that, as soon as everything was unpacked, they would leave.
“But, Fither,” Islaen protested when he told her that they were leaving, that the last item was unpacked and put away, “we brought food enough for all of ye. Would ye not rather wait until the morning?”
“Nay. We stayed this long for we wished to aid ye in moving. We will hie back to Caraidland to pack our goods, then go from there at dawn. Now, let me see the bairns once again ere I go. T’will most like be months ere I see them again.”
“Before the winter comes again,” Iain said quietly as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and watched her family and Alexander ride away, “we shall go to visit them. Bairns and all. I think the bairns will be old enough to bear the journey weel.”
“Aye, I think so and their aunts and cousins are eager to see them. Shall I have our meal readied?”
“Aye, I should like to retire early.” He looked at her. “Verra early.”
Feeling herself blush, Islaen softly cursed and hurried away to see to their meal. He did not have to mean anything other than he wished to go to bed early, she told herself crossly. He had certainly not indicated a desire for anything other than sleep just lately. She told herself not to think anything but she knew that she would. Just lately she could think of little else save of making love. She had often awakened in the morning cursing herself for fallng asleep so soundly and quickly and Iain for not trying to rouse her. Finally, she told herself that, no matter how anxious she grew for his touch, she would not be the first one to act. ‘This time Iain can,’ she thought angrily. ‘He can beg for it first. Weel, ask nicely.’ By the time she joined him for their meal she had decided that just some indication from him that he was feeling inclined would be enough, then chided herself for her weakness.
Iain maintained an amiable chatter throughout the meal. He also made certain, subtly, that Islaen did not have too many sips of wine. It was going to be an effort to say all he thought he ought to, what he wanted to say despite his sudden attack of cowardice, and he did not want to have to repeat it all because she was too dulled by wine. He let her go to their chambers first as well, so that he could have a little time to prepare himself and stiffen his suddenly weak backbone. Ruefully, he admitted that he feared rejection or simple disinterest. He feared he had waited too long to come to his senses, that he had killed whatever feelings she had held for him with his constant pushing her away. Finishing his wine, he started toward their chambers deciding it was best to get it over with.
When Iain entered their chambers, Islaen watched him covertly. She had hurriedly undressed, washed and gotten into bed but had decided that it was useless to even try to feign sleep. Iain had been acting somewhat strange since her kin had left, almost flirtatious at times, and he had seemed to be constantly watching her. It made her nervous.
“Islaen, we must talk,” he said softly as he got into bed and reached for her.
Talking was not what Islaen felt inclined to do when he held her so close, but she did not voice her real wishes. She was also afraid of what he might say. If she could see their marriage as a failure he could also but, unlike her, he was not urged by love to keep trying to mend things. The longer he hesitated to speak, the more certain she was that he was about to suggest that they live apart, perhaps even seek a way to have the marriage ended.
“I can stay with my fither,” she blurted out.
Abruptly distracted from trying to think of a proper way to open the discussion, Iain stared at her. “What?”
“My fither will take me in, an I claim it as my decision. There should be no real difficulty.” She was surprised that she could speak of something so painful with such relative calm.
“What are ye babbling about?”
“Ye sending me away.”
He held her tighter. “God’s beard, ’tis the last thing I want. Why should I do such a thing?”
Her brief conviction faltered alarmingly and she said weakly, “Because this marriage hasnae worked e’en after so long.”
“’Tis barely eighteen months since we wed. ’Tis not so verra long. And, if this marriage hasnae worked, ’tis only myself to blame. I wouldnae let it work. I told myself t’was best an it didnae.”
Hardly daring to breathe for fear of stopping a conversation that held the promise of at least explaining a few things, Islaen whispered, “Why didnae ye, Iain?”
“Have ye no idea?”
“A few but I cannae feel certain.”
“Aye, ’tis impossible to read a person’s thoughts or heart and I told ye naught. I thought to save ye from grief. I thought to protect ye from the pain of it, Islaen.”
“Did ye ne’er think that grief could come from a live but cold husband, from e’er being kept at a distance?”
“Aye, but I thought t’would be a lesser grief. Ye would still have the heart left to find another, to love and wed.”
“Or mayhaps I wouldnae wish to chance failing again. After giving all to ye and gaining naught mayhaps I wouldnae have the heart nor the strength to try again. Some find failure as deeply bitter as grief, Iain,” she said as he looked at her with some surprise. “Are ye telling me that ye arenae going to be running away from me any longer, that mayhaps we have a chance to make our marriage a good one and Muircraig a real home?” She ran her hand over his hip and felt him tremble slightly.
“Would ye like that, Islaen?” He told himself to behave, that they still had a lot to talk about, but continued to unlace her shift.
“Aye. Verra much. ’Tis what I have always wanted. Iain, kiss me,” she whispered.
“We arenae done talking,” he said with equal softness even as he brushed his lips over hers.
“I ken it, but once ye stilled some of my fears I got to thinking on other things. It has been so verra long, Iain.”
“Aye, too long,” he growled and then kissed her, moving so that she lay beneath him. “God’s beard, how I have missed your sweetness,” he rasped as his lips followed the descent of her shift as he eased it off of her body.
Her hands clenching in his hair as he paused to suckle the aching tips of her breasts, she found her voice thick and husky with passion when she was finally able to speak. “Yet ye stayed away for so long.”
“I had to.” He finished removing her shift, then crouched over her, the sight of her lithe, naked form all the foreplay he needed. “T’was a torture, sweeting. I dinnae think there was a moment I didnae ache for ye.”
Curling her fingers around his shaft, she urged him to join their bodies. “I ken the torment weel, Iain. End it now, husband.”
What little control he had ended the moment he joined their bodies. Islaen held him close as the hunger in his kiss matched the fierce thrusts of his body. She welcomed the fury of his passion and met it, wanting to savor each movement of his body within hers
but unable to control her starved desires. Vaguely she was aware of him watching her when her passion crested but, as she fell into passion’s abyss, she knew he was with her, felt him drive deep within her and heard him cry out her name.
Feeling satisfaction turn to renewed desire, Iain set aside the cloth he had washed them with and rejoined Islaen in their bed. Lying on his side next to her, he gently brushed the tangled hair from her face and smiled into her sleepy gaze. He still held her passion and that gave him hope, gave him the strength to finish talking.
“Now, where was I ere ye interrupted me?” He idly drew circles around her nipples with his finger and watched them slowly harden.
“Iain, if ye mean to have a talk, I dinnae think ye should do that,” she murmured but made no move to halt him, lying quiescently beneath his idle yet sensuous attentions. “I might get distracted again.”
“Weel, if ye keep lying verra still ye may be able to let me finish most all of what I have left to say.”
Feeling decidedly wanton, she just smiled. There was something exciting about just lying there letting him do as he pleased and feeling renewed desire seep through her veins. She was a little curious as to how long she could do so before having to touch him. Concentrating on his words would slow passion’s control over her and she exerted herself to do just that.
“Weel, what else did ye have to say? That wasnae all of it?”
“Nay. I ken I dinnae really have to say it all but I will. I want all cleared between us.”
“A fresh start.”
“Aye, a fresh start. Islaen, t’was not only ye I ran from. I ran from myself, from all ye could make me feel. After losing Mary, then Catalina’s death, I shut myself away, locked up my feelings. I put my heart in armor as strong as any warrior’s. I didnae want to feel and I didnae want anyone to make me feel. From the moment we met, Islaen, ye chipped away at that wall. I think the hardest thing to fight was the way ye could make me smile. Passion, ye ken, doesnae need to touch the heart and, e’en though t’was the fiercest and best I have e’er tasted, I oft felt I could control that. A mon has many years to learn to keep his lusts free of any other feelings. Och, ’tis so hard to explain.”